


Just My Luck

by nicefacepotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Drarry, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Slow Build Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8322847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicefacepotter/pseuds/nicefacepotter
Summary: What if Harry never got the Half-Blood Prince's book? What if, by a turn of events, the text ended up in someone else's hands?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! So I'm probably not going to be super fast in updating this, and I apologize ahead of times for the chapters being a little short, I'm super rusty with my fanfic writing (if you can't tell from the last one I wrote being like 4 years ago or something). 
> 
> Quick thank you to my buds who've read this ahead of time and continuously ensured me that it doesn't suck ass, because I've been wanting to write this for like 5 months now and haven't brought myself to finish the first chapter.
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> Side note, if this gets 25 kudos then I'll write the next chapter sooner than planned, so if you actually wanna keep up with this, keep a lookout

Draco slowly woke from his slumber, groggy and sullen. The striking pain in his temple made him pause halfway to checking the time. He had always been prone to headaches when he was stressed.

Stressed. That was one way to look at his future for this school year. The more accurate term would probably be _desperate_ , but that would never be his answer, of course.

He finally pushed himself to look at the time. " _Shit_ ," he breathed out, now quickly forcing himself out of bed. He was late. Very, very late. He rushed to throw his clothes on, feeling more irritated than anything else as he practically tripped over his shoes on his way out to the common room, though he couldn't be bothered to do more than a slight hasten.

Ignoring the few remaining Slytherins, he went straight for the exit and made his way through the halls, feeling like it took an eternity to make it to Potions. He composed himself before entering, taking a deep breath and heading inside. Of course, everyone else was already there. Professor Slugghorn stopped mid-sentence, turning to see who had entered, giving a smile.

"Well, well, here for potions are you? Get your book out, we've only just started," he spoke eagerly. Merlin, he was far too cheery for a Potions Master.

"I haven't gotten my book yet," Draco replied coldly, not in the mood.

Slugghorn's eyebrows twisted up in slight confusion from Draco's tone, but he gave a curt nod and a smile nonetheless. "That's alright, my boy, go and get one from the cupboard."

He turned on his heels and moved to the cupboard as Slugghorn continued on talking about the potions he had prepared. With a sigh, Draco opened the cupboard and his eyes fell upon a lone, tattered potions text sitting before him. It was pathetic, really, and completely unfitting for a Malfoy, but it would have to do. If he had just gotten up early, after all, he wouldn't be in this predicament. Begrudgingly, he picked it up and headed over to join the rest of the class.

Draco walked over just in time to see several of the girls (including Pansy) inching closer to the cauldron he was currently talking about. Squishing up his nose, he recognized the scent as some sort of soap or shampoo, but he couldn't place where he knew it from. Not that he cared enough to figure it out. By the time he put that thought aside and actually tuned in, Slugghorn was already discussing their challenge for the day, along with their reward.

"So. This is what I offer each of you today. One tiny vial of liquid luck to the student who, in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable Draught of Living Death," he announced. Draco gave a roll of his eyes and glanced down to the ugly book in his grasp. Maybe he could win the Felix Felicis and use it for... Of course, that was if Granger didn't outdo him like she did in every class. Filthy mudblood.

And just like that, the students began brewing frantically, each and every one of them having their big important reasons for needing the luck. As far as Draco was concerned, he was the only one in that stupid classroom who truly needed it. Before he opened his book, he shot a glance at Potter, allowing the smallest of smirks as the idiot clearly had no idea what he was doing. He was never very talented at potions. Looking back to his own station, he opened the text to the page for Living Death and quirked a brow as he noticed several corrections and comments scribbled between the lines and in the margins. Curious. He began working, deciding to follow the corrections rather than the still visible print beneath, hoping this previous owner (whose handwriting was strangely familiar) knew what he was doing. 'Crush with blade - releases juice better.' Working swiftly and easily, he noticed Granger glance over in confusion as he took actions that none of the other students did, quite clearly distressed. Oh, he was so winning this.

Within the next 15 minutes, Draco Malfoy now held the answer to his problem. He knew deep down that he didn't have it in him to terribly hurt anyone, let alone murder someone, despite how he had been taught to present himself. The task that he was given, the task to off the greatest wizard alive, was already unbearably weighing down on the blonde; he had no idea of how he was going to pull this off on his own. Now that he had the liquid luck, however, this would be almost too easy.

Or so he thought. 

—————————————

"I'm telling you, Hermione, something's going on with him!" 

Once they had gotten far enough away from class to speak, Harry started up talking about Malfoy again. He was so sure that Malfoy was up to something, that he was a death eater, and now, that he had a motive for winning the liquid luck.

"Harry, you're being ridiculous. He's not a death eater. Even if he were-"

"Which he is," Harry interjected quickly, which earned an irked look from his friend.

" _If_ he is, I don't see what succeeding in potions would have to do with it, other than to win his personal vendetta against muggleborn witches and wizards," she finished, trying to hide her frustration.

"Sorry, mate, I'm with Hermione on this one," Ron offered, giving an apologetic smile.

"Don't you realize what's just happened? He somehow knew a different way to brew the Living Death, which made the only good batch in the class, and now he has Felix Felicis to use however he wants. Are you going to tell me that's all just coincidence?" He was getting worked up by now, tired of his friends not seeing what to him was clear reason. 

Hermione gave him a look that already told him he was alone in his suspicions. “Yes. As much as I hate to say it, he’s gifted with potions, Harry. It’s not so far-fetched for him to have brewed it properly,” she said, squishing up her nose at the reminder that he’d bested her. “And besides, it’s not like he went into class today knowing what the prize would be.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head a bit. He wasn’t crazy. Something was going on with Malfoy, and he wouldn’t rest until he found out what it was. “I’ll see you guys in the common room,” he mumbled under his breath, turning to head down the opposite corridor. His friends watched him, a bit confused by his behavior, but said their goodbyes nonetheless. From beneath his robes, Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map once he was safely away from other students, searching for Malfoy’s name. He had to be up to something.

Thus began Harry’s inevitable obsession with Draco Malfoy.

—————————————

Needing to get away from people, Draco had gone to the Room of Requirement to begin repairing the Vanishing Cabinet that resided there. All afternoon, he couldn’t stop thinking about the book he had found. _What else could he make with ease, thanks to the corrections in this book? Possibly something else that could help him with his task at hand?_ No, he didn’t want to think about that now. He had the liquid luck, and that would solve his problems. At least, it would be a good back up if he really truly couldn’t do it on his own.

Before coming to school, he had been given specific orders on how to finish Dumbledore without having to do much himself, and he wouldn’t be the proud prick he was if he didn’t try it first. The cursed opal necklace. All he had to do was curse someone else to deliver it to Dumbledore and he would be fine. If he was lucky (how ironic) he would still have the felix felicis to use for his own desires afterwards. If he even still had anything he wanted.

With a sigh, he pulled open the door of the Vanishing Cabinet and set the apple he was holding inside, then closed it. Merlin, let this work.

—————————————

Harry approached his friends, who were sitting side by side on the sofa, with his map already safely tucked back in his robes. He sat down on the floor in front of them, clearly distressed, and decided not to hold back. There was no point, they already knew about (and completely opposed) his theory, he’d only be driven more mad if he kept this bottled up.

“Draco disappeared."


End file.
